of his ears. The modelling of the figure is broad and
spirited, and will bear comparison with good Italian ivories of the
Renaissance period.

[Illustration: Fig. 243.--Wooden statuette of officer, Eighteenth Dynasty.]

[Illustration: Fig. 244.--Wooden statuette of priest, Eighteenth Dynasty.]

[Illustration: Fig. 245.--Wooden statuette of the Lady Nai.]

Egypt produces few trees, and of these few the greater number are useless
to the sculptor. The two which most abound--namely, the date palm and the
dom palm--are of too coarse a fibre for carving, and are too unequal in
texture. Some varieties of the sycamore and acacia are the only trees of
which the grain is sufficiently fine and manageable to be wrought with the
chisel. Wood was, nevertheless, a favourite material for cheap and rapid
work. It was even employed at times for subjects of importance, such as Ka
statues; and the Wooden Man of Gizeh shows with what boldness and amplitude
of style it could be treated. But the blocks and beams which the Egyptians
had at command were seldom large enough for a statue. The Wooden Man
himself, though but half life-size, consists of a number of pieces held
together by square pegs. Hence, wood-carvers were wont to treat their
subjects upon such a scale as admitted of their being cut in one block, and
the statues of olden time became statuettes under the Theban dynasties. Art
lost nothing by the reduction, and more than one of these little figures is
comparable to the finest works of the ancient empire. The best, perhaps, is
at the Turin Museum, and dates from the Twentieth Dynasty. It represents a
young girl whose only garment is a slender girdle. She is of that
indefinite age when the undeveloped form is almost as much like that of a
boy as of a girl. The expression of the head is gentle, yet saucy. It is,
in fact, across thirty centuries of time, a portrait of one of those
graceful little maidens of Elephantine, who, without immodesty or
embarrassment, walk unclothed in sight of strangers. Three little wooden
men in the Gizeh Museum are probably contemporaries of the Turin figure.
They wear full dress, as, indeed, they should, for one was a king's
favourite named Hori, and surnamed Ra. They are walking with calm and
measured tread, the bust thrown forward, and the head high. The expression
upon their faces is knowing, and somewhat sly. An officer who has retired
on half-pay at the Louvre (fig. 243) wears an undress uniform of